


Pink Ties and Pranks

by gremlins-came-and-got-me (Scared_Beings_in_the_Dark)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Human AU, M/M, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26836510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scared_Beings_in_the_Dark/pseuds/gremlins-came-and-got-me
Summary: Boyd is getting married. Derek is so happy for his best friend. Except they’re starting a new tradition: a best man and a worst man. And just Derek’s luck: the worst man is his unrequited crush, Stiles. What’s next? A dishonorable maid?
Relationships: Cora Hale/Lydia Martin, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes
Comments: 7
Kudos: 121





	Pink Ties and Pranks

**Author's Note:**

> Based off [this post](https://umuofficial.tumblr.com/post/629202012880420864/aphony-cree-joey-wheeler-official-hot-wedding).

~ * ~

“I’ve been asked to be the best man at Boyd’s wedding,” Derek tells Stiles one evening.

“What a coincidence,” Stiles says, “I’m the worst man.”

“What the hell is a ‘worst man’?” Derek asks.

“Oh, you know, everything you do, I undo.”

“What? How is that helpful?”

“It’s not. Weren’t you listening? I’m supposed to stop the wedding.”

“Okay,” Derek says, and Stiles knows he doesn’t believe him. “So, if there’s a best man and a worst man, is there a maid of honor and a maid of dishonor?”

“Cora and Lydia,” Stiles answers without hesitation. Derek’s jaw twitches, like he’s clenching it extra hard.

“Who’s the honorable, and who’s dishonorable?” he asks.

“Well, you’d think the maid of honor would be Cora because she’s closer to Erica than Lydia, but really she’s more destructive so she’s the maid of dishonor. And kudos to you for knowing the right term for her!”

“What. The. Fuck. Why on earth would Boyd and Erica agree to this?”

Stiles shrugs. “It’ll be fun. Come on, don’t be a party pooper.”

Derek stabs a finger at Stiles’ face. “If you do one thing to ruin this wedding—”

Stiles bites Derek’s finger. Gently, of course. Derek stares at him, incredulous. He smirks sweetly.

“This is going to be so much fun!” Stiles exclaims. “I already know what you have planned, and I know how to undo it.”

“What? How do you know what I’m going to do? And how are you going to undo it?” Derek is panicking. How adorable. Stiles smirks less sweetly at him. Scott likes to call it his “Stiles is being evil” face.

Derek shudders. “Whatever you’re planning, don’t. I won’t have you ruin Boyd and Erica’s wedding.”

“Just try and stop me.” Stiles blows a kiss at him and all but dances out of Derek’s loft, heading down to his Jeep to drive to the hardware store for more supplies.

If Derek thinks he can just tell Stiles not to do the job he was asked to do, then he has another think coming.

And he should really focus on helping Lydia mitigate what Cora has planned. If Derek thinks Stiles is bad, he should see what his sister is doing.

Oh well. The wedding is in two months. Basically an elopement but plenty of time for shenanigans with the bachelor and bachelorette parties, the rehearsal dinner, and the wedding itself.

This is going to be so much fun!

~ * ~

Derek discovers what he thinks is Stiles’ first trick at the Bachelor Party. It’s a dye in the drinks that will make everyone’s poop neon green. He successfully diverts the drinks and then gets called to an emergency in the bathroom with Isaac.

When he gets back, he sees Stiles hanging onto Boyd, a pink boa behind his back. Now, the boa doesn’t bother Derek. Boyd had confessed, once upon a time, that his favorite color was pink or gray, so the boa is likely just a celebration of that. What worries Derek is the ice cube he sees in Stiles’ other hand.

With the stealth of a steam train, he barrels into Stiles, picking him up and carrying him all the way to the farthest barstool from Boyd and depositing him there.

Stiles squawks indignantly, berating Derek for resorting to brute strength, but Derek is successful. Boyd has the boa draped over his shoulders and the ice lies discarded on the floor. Derek points it out to the bartender and gets a thumbs-up in return.

Stiles pouts at Derek so he buys him a drink as a sorry, and then guards Boyd’s back for the rest of the night.

Afterward, when he’s wrangled a drunk Boyd and Isaac into an Uber, gotten Scott into his girlfriend, Allison’s car, he’s left standing with Stiles hugging his back, the boa wrapped around both of them.

Stiles gave up pulling pranks after the third drink Derek bought him, and he has to admit, the evening was nice.

Maybe there is something to this best man versus worst man thing. For sure, Boyd seems happy about it.

Derek can only hope Lydia is having as much success foiling Cora. Derek grew up with an extra pair of eyes on the back of his head and a sixth sense for dodging falling objects. Cora was a menace, and he can see why Erica picked her to be the maid of dishonor.

Stiles smacks his lips, burrowing his face into Derek’s back. “Wash ups?”

“Just waiting for traffic to die down enough to get to my car. I’m giving you a ride home.” The reason for the Uber for Isaac and Boyd and not a ride home even though Derek is sober is because he brought his Camaro and did not want to have to deal with wrestling the seats as well as the passengers. As it is, it’s still difficult to get Stiles into the front passenger seat and buckle him properly.

Drunk-Stiles apparently is a little handsy, and Derek has to keep jerking his waist out of reach of those wandering fingers. He doesn’t want an indecent exposure charge.

It’s not that he hasn’t dreamed sometimes of what it would feel like, but Stiles is tragically not interested in him.

They’ve been friends for almost seventeen years now. And in those long years Stiles has never even hinted at being romantically invested in Derek.

Shame.

“Wash ups?” Stiles slurs again as Derek starts the car.

“I’m taking you home. How drunk are you? Do you need me to stay with you?”

“Wash about Mock-Mosh-Mo—”

“Macchiato will be fine for one day,” Derek says. His cat is self-sufficient enough that Derek feels comfortable leaving her alone for one night. Besides, he kind of anticipated having to spend the night at one of his friends’ houses, so he’d left out extra water and food for Mac.

Stiles rolls his head until is facing Derek. His eyes are closed so it does him no good, and Derek keeps all his attention on the road.

“Why are you so nice?” Stiles asks, surprisingly clear.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re, like, the secretly nicest person I know. You organized all this evening and took care of your cat so you could take care of me too. What did we do to deserve you? Why haven’t we slept together yet?”

Derek’s heart freezes in his chest and then beats extra hard to make up for it. “What?” he manages to choke out.

“Ush. We haven’t we, y’know, cuddled with sex? Done the horizongtal tangled? Why haven’t I climbed you like a tree?”

“I don’t know,” Derek says quietly. “You’ve never asked me before.”

“Why do I have to do ever’thing? Why can’t you ashk me?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just thought you weren’t interested. You’ve never expressed an interest when you’re sober. Can you ask me again when you are sober? This feels like a discussion we should both be able to remember.”

Derek gets a snore in response. Figures. Stiles passed out.

Well, maybe Derek’s unrequited love isn’t so unrequited.

But it does make Stiles’ job as Derek’s foil more bastard-y.

No way out but through, come whatever may.

~ * ~

Hangover Central is no fun, Stiles decides and vows, and manages to adhere to the vow, of not imbibing so much alcohol at events. It helps that all he does is have a few nights out with his best friend Scott, and then crash at Derek’s place while Derek apparently makes up an impromptu night away to his cat.

Mac is definitely snippy about something because she won’t let Stiles pet her and she refuses to sit in Derek’s lap when Stiles bugs him for the umpteenth time after he woke up in his own bed with Derek sleeping on his floor.

He can’t remember the end of the night of Boyd’s bachelor party, but he does recall the way Derek had successfully dissuaded his worst man pranks. He also feels like he’s missing a very big piece of something.

Derek had asked him if there was anything he wanted to talk about once Stiles had a greasy breakfast in him and he had honestly answered no. Derek looked disappointed, put the dishes into the sink, and took his leave.

Now, with just a week until the wedding, Stiles feels the ice on Derek’s shoulder. Nothing he does seems to defrost it.

He doesn’t even know where it came from.

And they have to stand up at Boyd and Erica’s wedding together.

Stiles is damned if he’s going to let his oldest friend get away with freezing him out. Hence why he is sitting on Derek’s couch watching as, for the first time in almost a month, Mac jumps on Derek’s lap and curls up, purring.

“Why’d you stop talking to me?” Stiles asks, using the magic of animal-in-lap-can’t-run-away to his advantage. Derek shoots him a dirty scowl and then looks down at Mac, sad.

“Oh no, you do not get to pull that crap on me,” Stiles snaps.

Derek looks up, and if anything, his glare is more ferocious. “You’re the one that doesn’t want to talk,” he bites out through clenched teeth.

“Dude, what the fuck are you talking about?”

Derek shakes a finger at him. “This,” he says, cryptically.

“This what?” Stiles demands. “This, me sitting on your couch? This, you converting all your words into monosyllables?”

“Stiles, drop it.”

“No. Why?”

Derek sighs heavily. Mac opens her eyes, lets out a little sound of protest, and jumps down, stretching out her short nap. Free of the cat, Derek turns to face Stiles. “Do you remember anything about the ride home from the bar after the bachelor party?”

“I remember that you performed admirable best man duties,” Stiles says. “I don’t know how I got home, but I imagine I have you to thank for that.”

“Yeah, which you haven’t. But that’s not what’s bugging me.”

“So tell me,” Stiles says. “Obviously it’s big enough that you’re letting it affect our relationship.”

“That’s just it.” Derek spreads his hands out, almost helplessly. “There is no relationship. At least, not the one I want. And I thought you wanted it too, but then you were sober and didn’t want to talk about it. So forgive me for trying to put it behind us.”

Stiles is stunned into silence for a few minutes while Derek just stares at him. “What?” Stiles finally manages weakly. “What relationship do you want?”

Derek sighs and shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. Apparently you only want me when you’re drunk.”

“What?” Stiles repeats.

“Never mind.”

That at least shakes Stiles’ cerebrum and tongue loose. “What do you mean I only want you when I’m drunk? Aren’t I here, sitting on your couch, waiting for you to make some damn sense? What about that says I only hang out with you when I’m drunk?”

Derek blows out a breath, frustration pulling his shoulders down, mouth in a thin line. “I mean,” he says, slowly and deliberately, “that you only want to have sex with me when you’re drunk. You don’t want anything other than friendship when you’re sober and it’s killing me.”

“What?” Stiles says for the third time. He can’t breathe. Usually he’s so careful not to let Derek know how much he’s wanted him. It’s easy because he doesn’t spend that much time with Derek, but because he’s Boyd’s worst man and Derek is the best man, they’ve been together because Stiles needs to know what Derek is planning for Boyd so that he can sabotage it.

How was he supposed to know that Derek actually wanted him to sex him up?

“Goddamn it, you need to tell me these things,” he growls.

Derek glares at him. “You’re the one that didn’t want to talk,” he reminds him.

“I didn’t know I’d confessed!” Stiles protests. “How was I supposed to know that I’d told you when I got too drunk? You should have told me!”

“Sometimes I hate you,” Derek says.

The spike of hurt that flashes through Stiles’ gut is totally unexpected and wholly unpleasant. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” Derek nods to emphasize his point before sighing and dropping his head to his hands. “I love you,” he mumbles through his fingers. “I’ve loved you since college, I think.”

“High school for me.” Stiles taps his chest. “Not that it’s a competition or anything.” He sighs, wondering just who had their head stuck up their ass longer. He comes to the conclusion that apparently he did because he told Derek that he didn’t want to talk about anything after being blackout drunk the night before. He should have realized that he’d confessed his feelings and should have owned up to them when Derek gave him the chance. Also, he’s been in love longer and therefore has had more time to come to terms with it and ask Derek out. And he didn’t.

“So, where do we go from here?” Derek asks. “I mean, now that we’ve talked and apparently we both should have asked about romantic relationships long before now.”

Now being five years out of college. Stiles has been in love for almost twelve years now. What a waste of time!

“I think we get dinner,” Stiles says. “Y’know, if you’re amendable to that?”

“I could be,” Derek says, carefully. Like he’s afraid that Stiles is going to suddenly shout, “Sike!”

Which Stiles has no intention of doing. Ever.

“Cool. Also, just so you know, I’m planning to drop balloons filled with edible lube on the groom’s family at the wedding. Good luck figuring out how to stop that.”

Derek just blinks at him before shuddering. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Thank you.”

Slap a bandage on them and call them fixed. For now. Bandages promote healing, Stiles reminds himself. They don’t actually do any healing. The body does that by itself.

But a bandage is a start. And so is a kiss.

Derek startles when he presses his lips to his and then smiles, pressing back.

~ * ~

Boyd looks magnificent in his suit. Medium gray with a pink necktie. All the groomsmen, Derek, Stiles, and Isaac, are dressed in light gray with pink bowties while the bridesmaids, Cora, Lydia, and Allison, are dressed in pink dresses that match the color of the ties.

Derek already found at least six pranks of Stiles’ but he thinks he was supposed to find them as decoys. Some were really obvious, like the gift of stink bombs wrapped in Grinch paper, and some were not so obvious, like the thin wire attached to a canister of confetti hanging above the guests. To be fair, he’s probably finding some of Cora’s horrible pranks too. Lydia flashes him a smile and a thumbs-up whenever he finds one of the more well-hidden pranks, so yeah, he’s doing best man and maid of honor duties now.

He doesn’t mind.

It’s kind of fun to tiptoe after Stiles and catch him in the act of sticking tacks onto Scott’s seat.

“Any others I should be aware of?” he asks, just to see Stiles jump about a foot in the air.

“Need to tie a bell on you,” Stiles mutters, shoveling the tacks back into their box under Derek’s heavy glare.

“Don’t worry about that. Once your worst man duties are completed, then you can rest.”

“Same to you,” Stiles replies. “Hey, did you see what Cora had planned for Erica’s dress?”

Derek looks to Lydia, raising an eyebrow. She raises both of her and hurries away.

“Aw, no fair, you’re not supposed to work together. Cora and I aren’t.”

“That’s because your sabotages suck,” Cora says, right next to them. Stiles jumps again.

“Fuck you, Hales. You all should have some kind of noisemaker permanently attached to you so that we mortals can have a fair chance at escaping.”

“You don’t need to be escaping right now,” Derek points out. “In fact, it’s better if I keep an eye on you at all times.”

Stiles flushes suddenly, and Derek has no idea if it’s what he said or not, but Cora must think so because she loudly exclaims, “Are you two dating?” When they don’t answer, she adds, “Fucking finally.”

“Wait, what?” Stiles stammers.

Cora rolls her eyes. “You and Derek have been dancing around each other so much these past five years. You really should have gotten together sooner, but you’re both idiots.”

Lydia comes hurrying up the aisle. “It’s time to open the doors and greet guests,” she says. “Erica actually liked your idea of dying the bottom of her dress, so you’re lucky this time.” Lydia presses a small kiss to the corner of Cora’s mouth, careful not to smear her lipstick.

“Please tell me that was the last prank you and Cora had planned,” Derek says. “I really don’t want the wedding to be interrupted by any more shenanigans.”

Stiles winks at him. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Derek points at him, reminiscent of their first best-man-worst-man discussion. True to form, Stiles bites his finger.

Derek sighs. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“If I recall correctly,” Stiles smirks, “you don’t just like me, you lo-o-ove me!” He blows an exaggerated kiss at Derek and then skips off toward the double doors where the first guests are already arriving.

“Yeah,” Derek says to himself, “I do.”

~ The End ~

**Author's Note:**

> 05-10-20 unedited. Will edit after more sleep. Let me know if I missed any tags, thanks.


End file.
